


All I Want For Christmas Is You

by missbecky



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Christmas, Don’t copy to another site, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 20:12:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: In the space of a single moment, Steve has fallen in love with Tony. He's declared his love and it should be a magical Christmas to remember. The only problem is, Tony refuses to believe he means it.





	All I Want For Christmas Is You

Steve always thought that when he fell in love it would hit him like a lightning bolt. It would be a Moment with a capital letter. An epiphany that would forever change his entire world. He never thought it would happen so quietly that he barely noticed it. And he certainly never thought he would be wearing a Santa costume when it happened.

Life has a funny way of surprising you, though.

****

It's December 8th, and the superheroes of New York City are putting on a show. This one doesn't involve masked villains or falling buildings, though. This one is free for all ages, and though there is TV coverage, there is no one huddling for shelter and all the screams are ones of delight.

Steve volunteered as soon as he found out about the event. Yes, he said, he would absolutely be there to give the kids of the city a Christmas experience they would never forget. He would be more than happy to do it.

Two days later, Natasha had handed him a stack of something red and velvety all over. White fur lined the edges, and a thick black belt sat coiled atop it all. "Here you go."

Steve stared at her. "What's all this?"

"You're playing Santa," she said.

"But I thought—" he started to say.

"Nope," she had said cheerfully, and walked away while Steve was still standing there trying to figure out how this had happened.

It's not bad, though. In fact, it's actually a lot of fun. Many of the city's superheroes are dressed up as elves of some sort, though Steve isn't quite sure what Clint is supposed to be. Even the ones who don't celebrate Christmas are here, for the sake of the kids; he's seen Ben Grimm walking around with his arms looped with baskets of free candy canes.

The line of kids waiting to see Santa extends for approximately four miles. Or so it seems to Steve, sitting there on his Santa-styled throne. All he knows is that it's long. Really long. Kids and their parents or older siblings stand around waiting with varying degrees of patience. Some of them are sucking on candy canes. Others stare wide-eyed at Thor in his sparkly Santa hat or the various empty Iron Man suits standing around dressed like snowmen. Jan flits along the line, a tiny little elf making kids smile, while Tony waits at the head of the line, last one to talk to the kids before they venture up to the chair where Santa Cap sits.

They've been here a while already, and Steve is starting to wish for a bottle of water or even some coffee. His fake beard is itchier than he expected, and the borrowed boots are too big. But nothing can beat the smile on the kids' faces when they sit down and tell him what they want for the holidays.

Next in line is a little girl, maybe six years old; it's hard to tell. She's got a pink knitted cap on over her dark braids, and there's a Captain Marvel picture on her jacket. Steve's been watching her as the line moves up, and the way she presses tight to her mom. She's going to be one of those kids who's too scared to actually sit on his lap, he can already tell.

When it's her turn, the girl moves forward only because her mom makes her walk ahead. She's already half-turned away, her face a mask of anxiety.

"I'm sorry," the girl's mom says. She looks embarrassed.

All afternoon long Tony has been shepherding kids up the little ramp to where Steve sits in his Santa costume. He's wearing a red shirt with black trousers, and a Christmas tie. He's really good with kids, something that surprised Steve at first, even though he feels like he should have known that.

Now Tony goes smoothly down on one knee in front of the little girl in braids. He's smiling. He says something, too quiet for Steve to hear; not when his supersoldier hearing is overwhelmed by the shouts and laughter of hundreds of kids and their parents.

Whatever Tony says, though, it makes the little girl smile. She looks at Steve, then up at her mom. The mom makes an encouraging gesture. The girl looks at Steve again. He smiles his best benign Santa Cap smile and beckons with one gloved hand.

The girl looks at Tony, a question written all over her face.

Tony holds out his hand. Without hesitation, the little girl takes his hand. Together they walk up to where Steve sits surrounded by empty boxes wrapped to look like enormous gifts and sprayed with fake snow.

"Here you go," Tony says. He lets go of the girl's hand and smiles at Steve. "This is Emilia."

Steve smiles at her. "Merry Christmas, Emilia."

The girl's mom helps her get on Steve's lap. As she does, Steve glances up, over her head, and catches Tony's eye. He smiles.

Tony smiles back, bright and open, the kind of smile that rarely graces his face. And Steve stares at him and thinks: _I'm in love with him._

He doesn't forget about the girl sitting on his lap, or the kids and their parents, the fake snow and the seven-foot high Christmas trees. He doesn't stop hearing the holiday music or the kids yelling. It is not a Moment. There is no bolt of lightning. But there is no mistaking what has just happened.

Across from him, Tony goes very still, staring back at him. Then he turns toward the next kid in line, and focuses all his attention on them.

On Steve's lap, the little girl named Emilia looks up at him with some anxiety and says, "Mami says you're not the real Santa."

With some effort, Steve brings his attention back to the situation at hand. He's been fielding this question all day; the answer comes easy. But even as he says it, part of him is marveling over what just happened. Part of him is watching as Tony smiles and greets the next child in line. Part of him is remembering the way Tony smiled, how that smile seemed to be just for him.

"So," Steve says. "What would you like for Christmas?"

Five minutes ago he couldn't have answered that question himself. But five minutes ago he hadn't realized he was in love with Tony Stark.

Five minutes ago everything was different.

****

It keeps him up that night, lying in bed staring up at the ceiling long past midnight. He had hoped for the chance to talk to Tony after they got back to the mansion, but Tony had disappeared, and no one had seemed to know where he went. Rhodey had just shrugged and said he thought Tony had a meeting, but he wasn't sure. Disappointed, but also oddly relieved, Steve had accepted that and tried to go on about his day.

All through the still hours of the night, the same thoughts chase through his head. He's in love with Tony Stark. He has to tell Tony, but how? And what does Tony feel in return about him? Is there even a chance that they can make something together?

He knows Tony considers him a close friend. They've been through things together that would have broken lesser friendships forever. Their lives are not easy, even when they aren't trying to save the world from the latest villainous plot.

But he's seen the way Tony looks at him sometimes, always when Tony thinks he isn't watching. And he's noticed, too, over the years, that whenever Tony upgrades their equipment or their costumes, Captain America's is always first on the list.

It might mean nothing. Probably it means nothing.

But…it might just mean everything.

****

Dawn comes and Steve is no closer to figuring it out. All he knows for sure is that he needs to talk to Tony. It's not fair for them to remain on the same team when the situation has changed so drastically. The fact that Tony doesn't even know it's changed is why it's so important that they sit down and talk.

He joins some of the Avengers for breakfast, eating with Carol and Sam while Jarvis calmly clears away the dishes from where other members of his team were here earlier. The TV in the kitchen is on, and Sam changes channels every few minutes, driving Steve crazy.

The news coverage about the charity event is predictable. Fox News, with their usual barely-veiled hostility, calls it a publicity stunt. Other organizations are nicer, mentioning that Steve played Santa for over five hours in order to visit with all the kids, or that there was no cost to anyone who attended. There a few quotes from Luke Cage and Jessica Jones, which surprises Steve; he hadn't known they had pulled press duty, although it does explain why so few reporters wanted to talk to him afterward.

No one mentions Tony Stark or Iron Man. Or the fact that the entire day was paid for by the Maria Stark Foundation.

Breakfast does nothing to satisfy his hunger. He tastes none of it. He has to make an effort to respond appropriately to Carol and Sam when they talk to him. He's thinking about another conversation, one that looms in his future. A conversation he's not entirely sure he's ready for.

At last the meal wraps up and he can leave the table. He finds a solitary stretch of hallway to ask his question, the one that's been on the tip of his tongue all morning.

The Tower AI confirms what he's already suspected: Tony is in his armory. He thinks about asking just how long Tony's been in there, then decides against it. He doesn't want to know if Tony was working away all night.

Not all the Avengers have a password to this place, this room that is both a working laboratory and a research facility. Which says nothing about the many iterations of Iron Man that stand around the space, some in different colors, some with very different tech. As always Steve takes a moment to look around and just marvel at everything he sees; walking into this living display of Tony's genius is always a wonder.

It's hard to tell what Tony is working on today. As usual his attention seems to be split between multiple projects. One minute he's studying an electron microscope; in the next he's monitoring a 3-D printer that appears to be replicating Iron Man armor. The Tower AI surely must have told him that Steve was outside, ready to enter, but it still takes him a few minutes to look up and see Steve standing there. When he does finally realize he's not alone, he blinks rapidly, needing a few moments to center himself on this new object of fascination.

"Thank you for yesterday," Steve says.

Tony just looks at him. His eyes are so blue, Steve thinks randomly. "It was a lot of fun," he adds.

Tony seems to realize something is required of him here. A conversation needs two people, after all. "Yeah, it was. The kids all seemed to have fun." He smiles.

"It was your idea, wasn't it," Steve says. He didn't know that before now, and he has no proof of the allegation, but he knows it's true all the same. The media likes to label Tony as heartless, but this is the same man who revealed his superhero identity to the world for the sake of saving a puppy. They don't know him. None of them do.

Tony just stands there, further away than Steve would like, staring at him. The look on his face is vaguely familiar, but it takes Steve a second to recognize it. When he does, he wants to cringe. Tony is looking at him the way he does when he's faced with an unforeseen problem.

He hates that. He doesn't want to be a riddle to be solved.

Then Tony relaxes. He smiles again. "Could be," he says. "You never know."

Steve smiles back. He does know, though.

Silence falls between them, although the armory itself is not silent. The 3-D printer is in motion, and in the far corner a bot is machining a flat piece of metal. Tony's smile falters a little, then disappears entirely. "Did you need something, Cap?"

Steve blinks. The question itself, plus the use of his superhero name, puts a sudden gulf between them. It widens still further when Tony half-turns to glance at the progress of the printer. It's just a quick look, but it's enough to break their eye contact and make Steve suddenly conscious of why he came down here.

He has to tell Tony what happened yesterday, but he has absolutely no idea how to say it.

 _Be honest._ It's one of the rules he's lived his life by, even though it's gotten him into trouble enough times. And the worst of that trouble has often been with Tony himself, if he's frank about it.

But he has to say this. It's not fair to Tony and the rest of the team if he doesn't. So he takes a deep breath and he says, "Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk with you about something?" He can hear the way his voice rises a little, turning it into a question, but it's too late to take it back now.

For an instant Tony gives him that look again, like he can't figure out what's happening, like he's suddenly all nervous. Steve doesn’t like seeing that, but again there's nothing he can do about it, so he just forges ahead. "It shouldn't take too long."

Tony glances around the armory, like he's searching for an excuse to say no, for some important work that he can claim he can't pull himself away from. But then he turns back to Steve with a smile. "Sure," he says. "What's up, Cap?"

Again the use of his title. "Is there somewhere we can sit down?" Steve asks. He really doesn't want to have this conversation standing up while a 3-D printer hums along just a few feet away.

Without a word Tony leads him over to a corner of the armory that looks like it was once upon a time meant for comfort. There’s an old battered couch, currently covered with rolled up blueprints, an old Iron Man coffee mug missing the handle, and what might or might not be a few of Clint’s old arrows. Tony hurriedly gathers all this up and dumps it on the floor. Steve watches with a wince as the coffee mug rolls down the hill of blueprints, but the shattering he expects never happens; the red mug comes to rest against a set of plans and is safe.

The silence between them now is uncomfortable. They sit on the edge of the couch, further apart than is really necessary. Steve clasps his hands between his knees. "We've been friends for a long time."

Tony stares straight ahead; all Steve can see is his profile. It's enough to be able to see his jaw tighten. "Yeah."

"And I would never do anything to jeopardize that," Steve says. He can feel the heat on his cheeks. He knows he’s making a complete mess of this. "I hope you know that."

Tony doesn't move. His faint exhale -- nothing that could be called a sigh -- is barely audible.

"But something's happened," Steve says. "And I need to tell you."

"You really don't," Tony says quietly.

Steve pretends he didn't hear that. Anyone without his hearing would have missed it anyway, it was so quiet.

"Yesterday during the holiday event, I realized something," Steve says. He's not only flushing now, his heart is racing. He thinks he might actually be sweating.

"I'm in love with you," he says.

Beside him, Tony closes his eyes. His shoulders slump. "I know."

It's the last reaction Steve expects. He's so astonished he can barely get the words out. "You do?"

Tony finally turns toward him. "I knew it the moment you did."

That would explain the weird way Tony froze yesterday, and the strained quality to his smiles. But that only deepens the mystery. Why isn't he happy about this? Has Steve so drastically misread him all this time?

"And?" he prompts.

"And you don't really love me," Tony says.

Steve flounders like someone just tossed him into the deep end of a pool, where the waters are freezing cold and unexpectedly deep. He can hardly feel his own hands where he grips them tight. "What do you mean, I don't love you?"

"You only think you do," Tony continues. He musters another smile.

Steve stares at him, at those blue eyes he's seen at his side for so long. Sometimes frank and open, sometimes behind a crimson mask. It struck him after the Avengers first learned that Iron Man was Tony Stark that they always should have known the man and the armor were one and the same. No one else had eyes like that.

"I always knew this would happen," Tony says. "But I thought it would happen on the battlefield."

Utterly at a loss, Steve just shakes his head a little.

"Here's how it would go," Tony says. He sounds infinitely patient, a man with a brilliant intellect explaining a concept only he can truly understand. "One of us would think the other was hurt, or even killed, only to find out they were wrong. And it would just come out in the heat of the moment. But we would both know it wasn't real." For the first time since they sat down, he looks Steve in the eye. "Just like this isn't real."

It take Steve a moment to realize what Tony just said, for the full import to sink in. He actually smiles then, still stupid enough to think this is all just a misunderstanding. "It's real," he says. "You know I would never joke about something like this."

Tony does not smile back. "No, it's not," he says.

With that, Steve starts to get angry. He also, in the back of his mind, starts to feel the increasing beat of his heart. And a creeping coldness that seems to be rising from somewhere down around his feet. "I don't care what you say. I know what I feel."

Tony seems unperturbed. "You know what you think you feel," he says. "Trust me, Steve, if you really knew me, you wouldn't love me."

It's the use of his first name that finally clues Steve in. This is actually happening. Tony means every single word he says. He's not being coy or manipulative or digging for compliments. He is terribly, horribly, sincere.

He stands up and turns to look down at Tony. From here he can see the way Tony sits rigidly straight, his head up. "I do know you," he says. He has the sudden but thankfully brief urge to lean in and rest his hand on Tony's shoulder. But that would be too patronizing, and anyway he doesn't think he can touch Tony right now. Not if he hopes to maintain his composure.

"And you're wrong. I do love you. And I'm going to prove it to you."

He walks away without looking to see how Tony reacts to this news. He leaves the armory and returns to the rooms in the Tower that he's called home for many years; there have been other houses, other apartments, but somehow he always ends up back here again. This home that Tony gave him.

What he does after that though, he never really remembers.

****

What Tony does is very simple. He leaves.

Pepper explains it with a somewhat harried smile; she is always busy. "There's a tech expo in Seattle he's been scheduled to attend for months." 

This is certainly true, but Steve also knows that Tony would have made an excuse for his absence at the expo if he hadn't seized on it as the perfect excuse to leave the city. He also knows there is still a strong Stark Industries presence in Seattle. If Tony wants, he can find enough work to do there to keep him busy -- and away from New York -- for months.

Steve accepts the news without protest. He knows what this is.

And he's never yet been afraid to take on a challenge.

****

December 10th is another dreary winter Monday. Steve gets up early and goes for a run, the way he always does. The cold doesn't really bother him, and he likes being outside, stretching his muscles, greeting the people he sees most every morning. Some of them are joggers like himself. Some are on their way to work, or just coming home from the night shift. He thinks most of them know who he is, but none of them have ever been crass enough to say anything to him.

He has a meeting later with a lady from the VA, finalizing some plans that have been in the works for months now. It's another charity event, something he genuinely enjoys doing, especially when there are veterans and their families involved. As of right now, the event is little more than a lunch meet-and-greet, a thing Steve has done so often he could probably do it in his sleep by now.

After this weekend, though, he has another idea in mind. And it's all due to Tony.

Because the thing about Tony Stark is, most people, including some of the same superheroes they work with, think he's arrogant. They see his belief that he's the only one who knows the right course to take as further proof of his conceit. Steve does not exempt himself from falling into that trap; he knows he's done it more than once.

But all that is just the surface. Behind the glittering smile and the confidence that rules a global industrial empire is just a man. A man who doesn't really like himself. A man who will never stop trying to atone for a past he can never change.

A man who doesn't believe he is worthy of being loved.

It could drive Steve crazy if he let it. Tony is one of the best men he knows, and one of the most selfless. One of the most aggravating, too.

 _I'm not going to let you get away_ , he writes later that night in an email he has no intention of sending. _I love you too much to not at least give us a chance. So I'm going to prove it to you, just like I said. Then you'll see how much I love you._

****

Santa Cap at the VA is a big hit. The kids love him, and so do the veterans, some of whom are old enough to legitimately play Santa without having to resort to a fake beard. Though he let the press know about it, only three TV stations show up to interview him. To all of them he says the same thing. "I was inspired by Tony Stark, and our most recent Avengers charity event."

Only one station airs that line of the interview. That's all right. Steve figures Tony will see it anyway.

****

He rises early on Saturday the 15th. He goes for his usual morning run, sticks around to help Jarvis with the cleanup from breakfast, then gets roped into helping Jan pick out a menu for the party she's hosting in a few days. By the time they've settled on beef medallions and risotto, it's nearly lunch time.

Jan has other places to be, and Steve seizes his chance to escape. He skips lunch and instead spends a happy afternoon out shopping, ball cap over his head, winter coat over a heavy sweater. He loads bag after bag into the trunk of his car, stops for a late lunch, then heads back to the Tower. It's getting late by now, the early winter dark having already settled around the Tower and the city in which it resides. Not that the New York skyline is ever dark, of course. 

With Tony still in Seattle, it's up to the Tower AI to let him into the armory. Even without Tony being here, he has no doubts that he will be granted access – a privilege few can claim – and as he expects, the doors unlock and he is allowed inside.

He gets to work right away. Normally he would never dream of touching anything in here, or do anything that would take away from the order Tony has imposed on everything. To the average person the various workstations might look like random disorganization, but Steve knows that there is actually quite a precise order to it all. Tony knows where everything is, and where everything should be. If he were to move anything around, he would actually be making things worse, not helping.

Still, some things need to be done. He starts with the rolls of blueprints, which all lie on the floor right where they fell when Tony pushed them aside. He's a little curious as to what's on them, given that he's pretty certain the only plans Tony works off of these days are completely digital, but he's not curious enough to actually unroll them and take a look. Maybe later. Maybe when he's finished.

There's already a mini-fridge next to the couch, and Steve stocks it now with new bottles of water, stackable cups of yogurt, and some apples. He places a new Keurig machine on top of the fridge; the coffeemaker is sleek red and gold, and though he didn't plan to get that color scheme, he's quite proud of himself for having found it. Next to it he sets up a little stand that holds the individual coffee servings, arranging them according to flavor, saving one row for the little Kcups of hot chocolate.

There are a few sinks scattered throughout the armory, but only the one back here looks like it's safe to use for food and water consumption. Steve fills the sink with hot sudsy water and washes all the random coffee mugs laying around the armory that he can find. Some of them are plain white, while others are novelty items like the one that looks like Iron Man's helmet. Almost all of them contain the residue of ancient coffee, and he has to scrub quite hard at some of them to get the ring of brown off the bottom of the mug.

While he's waiting for the mugs to dry, he puts together a new set of shelves to go beside the fridge. The directions are deliberately confusing and he winds up with three extra screws, which seems a little weird, but at least the shelves are aligned properly. They stand three rows high, nearly the same height as the fridge itself, which is exactly what he was aiming for. 

By now the coffee mugs are all dry, so Steve stacks them on the new shelves. Though the shelves aren't very deep, they can fit a surprising number of mugs on them. He saves the top shelf, though, for little snack items like granola bars, pudding cups, and of course a bag of marshmallows for the hot chocolate.

He's rearranging the coffee mugs for the third time, trying to find an arrangement that is practical and also aesthetically pleasing, when he hears the doors open. He spins around quickly, but isn't quite in time to catch Tony walking in.

For a long moment they just stand there staring at each other, the space of the armory between them. Steve feels ridiculously guilty, like he's been caught red-handed doing something he isn't supposed to be doing, which is ridiculous, because he's always been allowed to come down here even when Tony isn't around. He's had his password so long that he doesn't think he'll ever forget it, the password that has remained the same throughout the years, no matter what the current status of his and Tony's relationship.

His throat closes up a little at that first sight of Tony. His skin flushes, his heart starts to race. Tony looks good. Real good. He's wearing an ivory-colored shirt and black trousers, a timeless, elegant outfit. He got a haircut while he was away. But Steve can also see the hints of fatigue and the strain around his eyes, little things that probably most people wouldn't even catch. But Steve has known Tony a long time, very long time.

And he wonders then how Tony even got here. Did he come all this way in the armor? Or did he drag it out, take the time to fly on his private jet, a laptop on his knee the whole time?

And just how long has Tony been watching him anyway? He hasn't been standing there very long, that's one thing he can be sure of. But even when he's not physically present, Tony has plenty of ways to see what's happening inside this Tower. Especially his own armory. 

"I was just bringing some things," Steve says. He makes a vague gesture to the new coffeemaker and the shelves beside it.

Tony nods. "Thanks." He stays where he is, practically lurking in the doorway. As though he's the intruder here. In his own space.

"How was Seattle?" Steve asks.

"About what I expected," Tony says. "It rained a lot. My tech was the best at the expo. Stopped A.I.M. from blowing up a sizable chunk of the planet. Typical Tuesday."

Steve can't help it. He knows it's a trap, but at least he walks into it with his eyes open. "Tony, it's Saturday."

"What can I say," Tony replies without hesitation. "It's been a busy week."

He'll probably never know the rest of what happened in Seattle, Steve concedes. "Well, I'm glad you're back."

It's very true. Part of him had worried that Tony would stay away for much longer than this. Long enough, for instance, for Steve to get over his burst of inconvenient feelings.

"Me too," Tony says.

The silence between them grows suddenly heavy, weighted by all the words they said the last time they were here. Tony looks away first. Steve glances at the brightly colored coffee mugs sitting on their new shelf.

"I'll let you get settled in," he says. He starts for the door.

Tony moves aside, coming further into the room but remaining near the wall. Still keeping his distance. He watches Steve approach with all the focus of someone who is ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

When Steve is nearly out the door, though, he stirs. "Thank you, Steve. Really." This time it sounds like he means it.

Steve smiles at him. Tries to pretend it isn't killing him that the three feet between them might as well be three miles. "Anytime."

****

It snows the 20th, the last Thursday before Christmas. Steve has never quite lost his love for snow, even though he doesn't have terribly fond memories of it as a child. But there's just something magical about a snowfall,. Especially at night, watching it by the city lights, turning the bustle and chaos into something that could almost be called peaceful.

Not that anyone would call an attack by the Serpent Society peaceful.

As usual with these guys, it starts with a failed bank robbery. But it quickly escalates into a pitched battle in the streets, because someone apparently has decided to bankroll these losers. And they have far greater tech than Steve has ever seen before. Even after they've been fighting for a while, with damaged buildings and rubble all around them, the Serpent Society persists. Instead of fleeing, the masked members gathers in the middle of the road, safe behind a shimmery bubble of wavy blue light.

"What is it?" he demands. He's the only one on the ground, the only one here who's not capable of flight. It's the holidays and too many of them are away, visiting family and friends. Only four of them showed up today, four of them with no clue how to breach that force field.

"Working on it," Iron Man says crisply as he flies past.

"Stay back," War Machine says. He levels his arm cannon at the wavery bubble of light.

"No!" Iron Man's voice comes over the comm, in Steve's ear. "Don't fire any energy weapons. It'll just reinforce their shielding."

"What the hell is it?" War Machine demands. Like Iron Man and Wasp, he's flying carefully around the perimeter of the force field, keeping his distance while searching for some weakness.

"My stingers can probably get through," Wasp says. "But I can't get close enough to try." She lacks any kind of armor, nothing to keep her safe if she gets too close to the spitting edge of the bubble.

Steve growls in frustration. They can't afford to wait much longer. Behind that force field, Sidewinder is doing something with his teleportation cloak, getting ready to whisk them all away, out of the Avengers' reach.

Well, he hasn't yet encountered a barrier that the vibranium shield can't cut through. He starts forward at a run, cocks his arm back and lets fly. The instant he does, he hears Tony's voice in his ear. "Steve, don't!" The use of his name, not his title, is enough to startle him, and he jerks his arm to the side, but by then it's too late. The shield is already on its way -- and so is Steve.

It impacts the rim of the force field exactly where Steve intended it. There is a tremendous concussion of sound and a dazzling explosion of white-hot sparks. Before he can even register what's happening, he's flying backwards through the air. He doesn't feel any pain. Just a sensation of heat and amazing speed.

It seems to take forever. He can't see anything for the dazzle-white glare covering his sight. He can't see the broken building at his back, and the crumpled rebar. 

He feels it, though, at the moment of impact. There is pain then. A lot of pain. 

He maybe cries out. He can't tell. 

Voices surround him. Some sound angry. One, dearly beloved, says his name. Repulsor fire blooms in the distance, bright points of light against the fading white.

He would like to fall down. He really would. But he can't move. There's too much pain; it's in the way. Whether he likes it or not, he isn't going anywhere.

Pinned to the rubble by the metal piercing his back and shoulders, Steve watches the rest of his team finish the fight. The shimmery force field seems to be blinking in and out now. Though Steve concedes that might just be his own failing vision.

He coughs, swallows back a groan and thick blood.

He has to help them. They're his team. They need him. _Tony_ needs him.

With all his strength, he pushes himself forward. Pain rips through him, but he manages to get free. He can see his shield lying on the street, where he was standing before. Just waiting for him to retrieve it. It's not far. He can do this.

The first step makes his chest convulse. He coughs again and somehow he's down on one knee, bracing himself with a trembling arm. But still he keeps his eye on his shield.

And so he doesn't see the figure in crimson armor approach. The first thing he knows is that the voice he loves so much is no longer solely in his ear, but right there in front of him. Calling his name. 

He blinks. Lifts his head. "Tony?"

The faceplate is lifted, revealing the worried blue eyes beneath. "Steve? Oh God. Steve."

He coughs again, tasting blood. It hurts like hell. He doesn't want to spit blood all over Tony.

The armor is freezing cold as it wraps around him. He's lifted, gently lowered to the ground. "Stay with me, Steve," Tony pleads.

Steve looks up at him. It's actually harder to breathe now that he's lying flat. His damaged lungs don't like it. But the look on Tony's face, the pure love shining in those eyes, is worth it. "You do love me," he breathes.

Tony looks like he can't decide if he should laugh or cry. "You idiot," he sobs, "of course I love you."

Steve smiles. "I knew it." He coughs again, and lets his eyes close.

He feels himself lifted again. Someone says his name. Warm lips press a kiss to his temple. Then he's in the air, winter wind on his face, cold enough to chill, but never cold enough to take away his contented smile.

****

Even super-soldier healing can't quickly undo the damage caused by multiple puncture wounds and internal injuries. It's Christmas Eve before Steve is allowed to return to Avengers Tower, with an admonition by his doctors not to overdo it. He thanks them all for taking care of him, then leaves the hospital.

It's another cold day, though the skies are clear, with no snow forecast. There won't be a white Christmas in New York this year. Steve doesn't mind. He's just glad to be alive.

Jarvis knows to expect him, and he greets Steve warmly; though he had plenty of visitors in the hospital, the Avengers' butler was not one of them. Still, Steve knows he was worried, and he's sincerely glad to see one of his charges is all right.

One person didn't visit him, though. He hadn't honestly expected it, though it had stung a little at the time. But with some time to reflect, he's actually glad Tony didn't come. He wouldn't have wanted to hold a serious, intimate conversation in the hospital. And avoiding it would only have been awkward.

So he waits, giving his time and his reassurances to Rhodey. Jan hugs him and reminds him of her holiday party that night, starts out the door, then comes flying back for another hug. He takes an intergalactic call from Carol and a regular call from Sam. He turns down two interview offers with the local news. He spends some time in his room, just working on his breathing and feeling thankful to be home again. He is always patient with hospital staff, who after all are only trying to help him, but nothing can beat the relief of being back home.

And at last, three hours after returning to the Tower, he goes down to the armory to see Tony.

He knows Tony is there; both Jarvis and the Tower AI have told him so. But that's all he knows. Tony could be genuinely hard at work on any of his numerous projects. Or he could be hiding down here, postponing the talk he must know is inevitable.

Steve takes the elevator down. He is mostly pain-free now and breathing just fine, though he does get an occasional twinge in his chest if he makes a too-sharp move or inhales too deep. By tomorrow even that should be gone, his body restored to complete health and strength, the injuries forgotten under the play of muscle.

It does not explain why his heart beats so rapidly.

The armory doors open at his password, despite the uneven sound of the words. He walks inside, all the way in, not lingering in the doorway the way Tony did that day, the way he would if he were uncertain of his welcome.

Tony is standing behind a long, low desk. Three keyboards are spread before him, one with keys bearing strange symbols instead of letters and numbers. A hologram hangs in the air above him, a steady blue light that seems to be showing part of the Iron Man armor, though it's hard to tell. The 3-D printer is silent today, though some machines in one corner are working away, emitting a quiet but rhythmic thumping noise.

"How are you?" Tony asks. He stands up. He's dressed in a white tank top and jeans. Summer clothes. Working clothes.

"A lot better," Steve says. He glances around, sees that every one of those individual coffee servings he bought are still there. Not one has been used.

"I was going to visit," Tony says, "but the press would've been all over it, and I didn't want to do that to you."

This is in fact true, though Steve knows it isn't the real reason Tony stayed away. Still. "I appreciate it," he says.

Tony meets his gaze head on. For him, the outcome of their talk is already a foregone conclusion. He has been anticipating this encounter for days. Planning for it. In Tony's head there are a thousand scripts already produced. He can deviate at any moment to follow the one he needs. He has already written their conversation, giving Steve any and all the words that might be said.

It pisses Steve off. There is nothing he can say, nothing he can do, that Tony won't have thought of and planned for. He's thought about this day, too, of course, but though he was always good with battle strategy, he doesn't have the futurist's brain. Nor does he have the gall to think he knows how this conversation is going to go.

So because there is no point in playing that game, Steve doesn't even try. He just walks further into the armory and sits down on a stool not far from Tony's desk. There is a microscope on the table in front of him, and an assortment of petri dishes, though none of them seem to be in use at the moment. He considers them, but says nothing.

Silence fills the space around them. Despite his anguish, Steve feels his heart slow. He is calm again. It occurs to him that he too knows how this will end.

"About what I said," Tony starts. Steve wonders how many scripts he has already tossed aside, now that he has been forced to begin the conversation instead of reacting to an overture.

He knows he shouldn't speak, shouldn't follow the plan, but he can't help it. "It happened just the way you said it would," Steve says. "In the heat of the moment. One of us thinking the other was hurt." He musters a sound that can pass for laughter. "Of course, I actually _was_ hurt."

For a moment genuine pain shows on Tony's face as the mask cracks. Always a mask with Tony, and not always of crimson armor either. "That'll never happen again," he vows. He walks over to another table opposite his desk. "I've made sure of it."

Steve saw the Captain America uniform as soon as he walked in, of course. He knows he was meant to see it. It's bait, something put on display for him to notice and wonder about. Probably there were at least a dozen scripts in Tony's head that began with Steve asking about the uniform, scripts he's had to abandon.

That's good. That's exactly what Steve wants. He has to work to get Tony to be spontaneous, to say something that isn't planned.

Tony holds up the uniform. "Reinforced with a new fabric of my own design." He shakes his head a little deprecatingly and says in a rapid-fire murmur, "Okay well maybe the X-Men thought of it too but anyway." He gazes at Steve. "It should keep you safe."

"Rebar-proof fabric?" Steve teases.

To his surprise, Tony flinches. "As best I could make it."

"Thank you," Steve says with genuine gratitude. He's never been a flier, like Tony or Rhodey or Carol. His fight is on the ground, at street level, where the debris and damage tends to be a lot worse, depending on who they're facing. It eases his mind to know he can wade into the fray now without worrying about his own safety so much. It frees him up to do so much more, help so many more people.

He starts forward, intending to take hold of the uniform, smooth it between his fingers and feel this new fabric for himself. But as he does, Tony sets it down again and backs away. Giving him the opportunity to test it, but also keeping space between them.

"So," Steve says. "What you said." Bringing the conversation back where it belongs. "You're going to tell me now you didn't mean it."

"No," Tony says quietly. "I meant it."

That takes Steve by surprise. Yet again. And suddenly he is tired of the verbal games, the guessing and second guessing. "So what then? You're going to do something, aren't you? Take my memory away of this conversation or something?"

Tony looks stricken. "I would nev-- No, Steve. I wouldn't do that to you."

"So what then?" Steve demands. His chest hurts, though it has nothing to do with his injuries.

"Nothing," Tony says.

There is no way such a simple answer can be right. "What do you mean, nothing?"

Tony gives him a smile sharp enough to draw blood. "I mean, nothing. Nothing will happen. Nothing _can_ happen."

Steve stares at him. There is enough space between them that it would take more than one stride to cover it. Far enough that Tony would be able to get away, should he spring. Far enough that there is no crossing it. "So you love me and I love you, but we do nothing about it?"

"Yes," Tony says.

"You can't be serious," Steve says. It's lame, but it's all he has the strength for.

"I've never been more serious," Tony says. "And you should know that."

Yes, he does know that. Once again Tony has decided on his own what's best for everyone involved. Without consulting them. Without even talking to them. He's applied his great big brain to the problem and come up with what he absolutely believes is the only possible solution.

Except Steve isn't having any of it.

"I know you _think_ you're being serious," he says. He inches forward, not even half a step. But a start. "I know you've thought it all through, that you've come up with the only solution for us." Another half step. This time Tony's eyes widen slightly and he leans back – but he doesn't move away.

"I know you think you're not supposed to love me," Steve says. He's beyond caring if he's on script or not, or what rebuttal Tony will have for him. He speaks from the heart now, from the painful thudding of his heart, his heart, his heart.

"And I know you think I'm not supposed to love you back," he says. "Because how could I? You're not good enough for me. Is that right?"

The blood drains from Tony's face. He stands so still he might be an empty shell of armor. But Steve is close enough now to see the pulse beating wildly at his throat.

"And what I also know," Steve says, "is that's a lie." He slides forward another half step. It's all he dares. "You are good enough. And I do love you. And I refuse to let that mean nothing."

"If you really love me," Tony says, barely above a whisper, "you won't do this to me."

That gives Steve pause. For about half a second. That's how long it takes for him to see the terror bright in Tony's eyes. It's not a fear that Steve will disbelieve him and persist in his advances, but that Steve _will_ believe he means it, that Steve will turn away, forever slamming shut the door on any chance they might have.

"I really love you," Steve breathes. He closes the last distance between them. In that last instant, he sees the way Tony is trembling all over. Then he has his hand on Tony's arm and his lips are on Tony's lips and the tremors sweep through him too.

Tony's hands rise to clutch his arms. They are nearly the same height, and there is no effort involved at all to kiss Tony. It is, in fact, the easiest thing Steve has ever done.

And at last he feels like he has finally come home.

Tony leans into the kiss, his grip on Steve's arms insistent. The weight and warmth of his body is a pleasant surprise, something Steve could only imagine before this.

Now that he knows what it feels like, he never wants it to end.

He is not, therefore, surprised when Tony pulls away. He catches a quick sight of the vivid blue of Tony's eyes and the moisture on Tony's reddened lips, then Tony averts his face.

Already Steve misses the warmth of his body, the brush of his mustache on sensitive skin. He wants to kiss Tony again. His arms feel cold where Tony held him so tight; his skin craves Tony's touch.

Tony won't look at him. Steel bands constrict about Steve's chest. They may have temporarily deviated from the script, but he's all too afraid he knows what comes next. "Don't you dare say we shouldn't have done that." He can't bear the thought of Tony ruining the moment they just shared.

"But how can we?" Tony pleads. He looks at Steve, the face Steve has loved almost from the moment he woke from the ice. "Tell me, Steve. How can we?"

"Like this," Steve says, and kisses him again. 

Tony resists just long enough for Steve to think he's made a terrible mistake. Then he reaches up to seize Steve close, one hand snaking around his neck, pulling him in.

Steve goes willingly. He would follow Tony anywhere.

"That's how," he says. He stands with his forehead bowed, touching Tony's forehead. Tony's hand is still on the back of his neck, and he is still clutching Tony's shoulders even though he doesn't remember reaching up to do that. He's reluctant to let go. He's afraid if he does he'll never get this back again.

"All right," Tony says.

"Yes?" Steve says but that's all wrong because he doesn't mean it as a question. "Yes," he says again. An affirmation. "We're going to make this work."

"How?" Tony asks. The desperation has left his voice, though. It's just a question, another problem to be solved.

"I don't know yet," Steve says, "but we'll figure it out."

"Yeah," Tony says. His thumb rubs the back of Steve's neck. He probably doesn't even know he's doing it.

Joy surges through Steve. This is everything he ever wanted. Everything he could have ever hoped for.

He knows it's not that easy, of course. Tony's issue of feeling like he isn't worthy of Steve's love isn't going to go away just because of two kisses. But Steve is willing to kiss him as many times as it takes. He's going to tell Tony how much he loves him every single day. And every single night, too.

He gives Tony another kiss, this one short but sweet. He lets go and steps back. "Merry Christmas, Tony."

Tony blinks in surprise. It's entirely possible he forgot the date, having thrown himself into his work for days. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he's done such a thing. Then he smiles, a brilliant smile that lights up his entire face. "Merry Christmas, Steve."

"Do you believe me now?" Steve says.

Tony glances away. Steve resists the urge to take his chin and make him look at him. "Tony?"

"I always believed you," Tony admits. He lifts his head and meets Steve's gaze. "Even when I didn't want to."

It staggers Steve's mind to realize how deeply Tony hates himself. How determined he is to deny himself anything he thinks he doesn't deserve. But that's not something he can put in words, not when he's still adjusting to the idea that he gets to love Tony at all.

Instead he tries to make a joke, even though he's been warned in the past about his lackluster sense of humor. "Does this mean I should return the Keurig?"

"No" Tony says without missing a beat. "I'm giving it an AI. I think all coffeemakers should come equipped with a snooty voice asking if you really need that third cup."

Steve laughs, and after a moment, Tony laughs alongside him. Sheer joy washes through him. This is really going to happen. He loves Tony and Tony loves him and they are really doing this. "I couldn't agree more."

Tony's laughter tapers off into an amused smile, and Steve abruptly realizes that he's got a big problem. Because every time Tony smiles at him, little fireworks go off in the pit of his stomach. It makes it very hard to concentrate on anything.

"So what happens now?" Steve asks.

Tony looks at him blankly. "What do you mean?"

"You weren't planning on working all night, were you?" Steve says. Even as the words are coming out of his mouth though, he knows the answer. Of course Tony was planning to work all night, holiday or not. Probably he even expected to bury himself in work to forget the painful but inevitable outcome of this conversation. But for once things haven't turned out as Tony planned. For once he's making it up as he goes along.

"Yes, I was actually," Tony says. He is completely frank, no apology, no embarrassment at admitting that he was going to work through Christmas.

Steve just nods a little, acknowledging what he already knew. He's never really thought about it before, all those times over the years when Tony has sacrificed his time for others, coming up with plans and contingency plans for anything and everything that could possibly affect Iron Man and the Avengers.

"What I saw in Seattle with A.I.M..." Tony says. "It's kept me up at night. If that new tech gets out..."

It probably will. These things always do. "But not tonight, right?" Steve says. "It is Christmas Eve, you know."

Tony looks taken aback, as well he might. Steve is hardly the type of person to encourage shirking one's duty. But then he says, a bit reluctantly, "No, not tonight."

Steve nods. "Good. Then what do we do with the rest of the evening? As Jan reminded me earlier today, she's hosting a holiday party. We could go?" This time it genuinely is a question. He would like them to go, but he can't speak for Tony. He can't speak for both of them as a single entity. That isn't his right.

"I guess we could," Tony says. Then his eyes widen as the full meaning of that sinks in. "Wait, you mean go together?"

Steve smiles at him. "Yes," he says. "Together."

****

The party is exactly what Steve expected. A little too loud, a little too over-decorated, and a surprising amount of fun.

He stands near an artful arrangement of armchairs and nurses his drink: just plain eggnog, no liquor added. He's supposed to be talking with Thor and Jane Foster right now, but in plain truth, most of his focus is on Tony.

Even from across the room, Tony commands attention. He's in a red dress shirt, and his tie has little Christmas lights that blink off and on. He's drinking water, and in one hand he holds a tiny plate with a couple stray meatballs. He looks good. Good enough to kiss.

Steve considers it. He could do it. He really could. There's enough mistletoe hanging from random doorways to give him the perfect excuse.

But he hesitates. He isn't ready to kiss Tony in public yet. And he believes Tony isn't ready for it, either. Tony still has to learn to accept that Steve is in love with him. An embarrassing kiss in front of everyone won't exactly help with that.

Thor and Jane move on. Hank McCoy touches Tony's arm and gestures to the kitchen, where enough food is laid out that even the Hulk wouldn't have cause to complain. Tony shakes his head, and Hank leaves alone.

Their eyes meet. Steve smiles. Tony raises his water in a silent toast. 

"Cap!" A hand grabs for his elbow and misses. It's Johnny Storm, a long way from sober. "I didn't think you were coming!"

"I wouldn't have missed it," Steve says.

Across from him, Tony is now deep in conversation with Ororo Munroe. She says something that makes him laugh, but Steve can see it's the public laugh, the one Tony perfected for the glaring eye of the world even before he was out of his teens.

The fact that he knows this makes Steve's heart miss a beat. He's seen Tony laugh tonight already, and it was the real thing. Not many people can say that.

The party goes on. Steve moves with the flow, avoids the mistletoe, and shares a secret smile with Tony at every chance he gets. He's eager to be alone with Tony again and he doesn't particularly want to stay here too late, but he also doesn't really mind the wait. 

Just after 9:00, Jan calls them all together. "Okay, everyone! Head for the tree! It's time for presents!"

There is an immediate press toward the large living room. Steve stands aside, letting other guests go ahead of him. Across from him, Tony does the same.

They are the last two to file into the room with the enormous Christmas tree. Brightly wrapped boxes are piled high beneath the garlanded branches. Steve can see names on a few of the tags, including his own.

He appreciates the gesture, but he doesn't need anything. He already received his present. He got the one thing he wanted above all others. And while everyone's attention is on Jan and the tree, he takes Tony's hand and presses it tight.

Tony squeezes back, then lets go. He drifts away to join the crowd, adding his voice of encouragement to the others, while unseen in the winter sky above them, an Iron Man drone circles constantly, ensuring nothing happens to disrupt the party Jan worked so hard to put together. Tony Stark, so brilliant and selfless, who gives so much of himself. 

Tony Stark, who gave his heart to Steve Rogers tonight.

Some gifts are better just torn into, pretty wrapping paper ripped and tossed aside. Some, though, are worth taking the time to unwrap, enjoying the experience of the unveiling, the discovery of what lies beneath the glitter.

Steve knows which one he has.


End file.
